Tryst
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK- 'In truth England wondered why he couldn't have one monogamous relationship and still be allies with others, but that was not for him to decide.'


**Tryst  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: A birthday present for a friend of mine and something I'd been wanting to write for awhile anyway. :)  
**

* * *

He stepped from the taxi, pulling off his gloves as he nodded his thanks to the driver. He stared up at the grand hotel before him and took a deep breath before he walked inside armed only with a small briefcase. Well-dressed travelers milled about in the lobby, but he made straight for the concierge desk and the professional looking man standing there.

"May I help you, sir?" the man asked.

He straightened his tie with one hand. "My name is Arthur Kirkland. I believe you may have something for me?"

"Ah yes, a Mr. Jones has a message for you." The man stepped away for a moment, returning with a card that he placed on the counter.

He nodded his thanks again and reached for the card. He slipped it off and held it at his side as he made for the lifts at the far end of the hotel. Once inside one of them he looked at the card, noting the number. He tucked the card into his jacket pocket and pushed one of the buttons, taking his time in leaving the lift when it reached the appropriate floor.

He stood in front of the correct door, glancing down either end of the hallway before he lifted his hand. He knocked once then twice, then once again. It was only a moment before the door opened and he was pulled inside. He dropped his briefcase as he was pulled into an embrace, and he sighed into the eager mouth on his.

"_America_."

What followed was a blur, though they somehow managed to get their clothes off with very little need to break contact. England fell back against the bed, pulling America with him and losing himself to the pleasure of feverish, desperate movements that had been pent up inside of him for far too long. He didn't bother to muffle his cries but then, neither did America.

He sat in a chair by the glass doors leading to the balcony after, and America watched him from the bed.

"I was starting to think you'd never make it," America said.

England cast a glance at him then turned to look out at the bright lights of the city below. "My boss was suspicious. It took quite a bit of smooth talking and taking a roundabout route to get here."

"Yeah. I think my boss is starting to think something's up, too."

England didn't respond, instead staring intently out beyond the balcony—out to a city full of people who were mostly unaware of just how lucky they were.

"Have you been with France lately?"

England stiffened, turning to look at America. America was lying on his side, propping himself up with his hand. America wasn't accusing him of anything, but England knew what he was asking.

"Yes," he said, looking directly into America's eyes.

America nodded, but didn't comment. Instead, he scooted over on the bed and patted the empty spot next to him.

"You think you can get back in bed with me? I'd like to hold you while I still have the chance."

England said nothing, but he stood, walking over to the bed to lie next to America. He rested his head on America's chest as America wrapped his arms around him.

"So I know that regular couples have their problems and stuff, but it's not like they have to worry about being judged for wanting to be with just one person."

"They've done nothing wrong, America. You can't fault them for being human."

"Yeah, I know, but it still sucks."

Although England didn't voice it, he agreed. In their world, relationships and alliances were at the discretion of their bosses. Because of the Special Relationship, he and America were encouraged to be together, but not actually _together_. Being monogamous was forbidden when they were meant to maintain relationships with many different nations. In truth England wondered why he couldn't have one monogamous relationship and still be allies with others, but that was not for him to decide.

That did not, however, stop him and America from breaking the rules, though their secret trysts were becoming increasingly harder to arrange. Sooner or later their bosses would find out and they might not even be allowed their "diplomatic" meetings.

"Hey, humor me for a sec. Just imagine if we weren't nations, just two guys. Not America and England, but Alfred and Arthur. We met on the street and maybe we argued and hated each other for a while but then one day I asked you out on a date and you said yes because all along we really wanted each other."

"And then we'd go on several dates after that, I suppose? Get married, raise a family and grow old together?" England laughed, though it was a hollow sort of sound. "But we _aren't_ Arthur and Alfred. We're England and America, and we can't have any of those things."

"…yeah, I know."

England ran his fingers across America's chest in apology. America was just pretending and there was really no harm in that, especially not when they were already meeting each other when they shouldn't.

"Hey, England. What if we ran away somewhere? Somewhere no one would think to look for us? We could start a new life where no one knew that we were America and England and even if we wouldn't have the family or growing old part, we'd have each other and no one to tell us that it's not okay. We really could just be a couple of guys."

England paused, contemplating the idea. In his mind he imagined a farm in some unknown countryside, where they grew and raised their own food and only occasionally ventured into civilization—somewhere they could be Alfred and Arthur and no one would ever know the truth. Somewhere it was okay to just want one person and not be obligated to consort with others. It was wonderful to think about.

Too wonderful. It was also something that could never happen. Even if they did run away, they'd be found. There was no way they couldn't be. He didn't want to think of what sort of consequences they would suffer if they did.

"You know that's not possible, America." His voice was weary, though—full of regret.

America didn't say anything, but he hugged England a little closer. England closed his eyes as he pressed himself closer, listening to America's heartbeat.


End file.
